


Coon & Friends (And Craig) vs Cthulhu

by fallingwthstyle



Category: South Park
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-08 21:13:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13466640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallingwthstyle/pseuds/fallingwthstyle
Summary: In twelfth grade, the boys suddenly develop the superpowers they had pretended to have as kids, Craig’s eye lasers return, and Cthulhu arises from the Gulf of Mexico where he had been banished and sets out to destroy the world. Then things really start getting weird.





	1. I Am Choosing Not To Be A Part Of This

_In a little while_

_I’ll be gone_

_The moment’s already passed_

_Yeah it’s gone_

How To Disappear Completely – Radiohead

 

CHAPTER ONE – I Am Choosing Not To Be A Part Of This

Tweek pulled his Chemistry and American History textbooks from his locker, tucked them under his arm, and slammed the door. A wasp that had been perched on one of the door's slotted air vents flew down and landed on the back of his right index finger.

 _"Gah!!"_ he shrieked and violently shook his hand. Books and papers flew everywhere, and the wasp fell to the floor, momentarily stunned. Craig looked at Tweek long enough to make sure he hadn't been stung, then glared down at the wasp, which was beginning to stand up on its tiny wasp legs and preparing to fly away.

Two beams of blue-white light no wider than the lead inside a mechanical pencil and too bright to look at emerged from Craig's eyes and converged on the wasp. The phenomenon only lasted a fraction of a second, and when it was over, the wasp had been reduced to a charred and smoking cinder inside a dinner plate-sized circle of blackened tile.

Tweek stared at Craig, his panic over the wasp instantly forgotten. "Jesus _Christ_ Craig!” He took a wary step backward. “What the hell was that?"

Craig looked back up at his friend, confused about what had just happened, even though he sort of already knew. "I...I don’t know...?" he trailed off.

"Has that ever happened before?" Tweek’s voice was edging toward hysteria.

Craig shook his head slowly. "Well...just this one time..."

Tweek shrieked again and ran away, down the hall and out the exit. Craig took off running outdoors after him, and was about to call out to him when he looked up and came to an abrupt halt. Tweek had stopped twenty feet ahead and was looking up at the sky at the same thing. Kyle Broflovski was flying through the air overhead, sailing just above rooftop height, wearing a strange blue costume with a red and yellow kite strapped to his back and looking frightened.

Tweek took off running again, while Craig continued to watch Kyle, who apparently had spotted him staring.

“Meet us at Cartman’s house!” Kyle shouted as he flew by. Craig realized he would have gone there anyway, drawn to it as if by some primal instinct. He also thought it was a wonder Kyle was able to speak at all; it seemed to be all he could do just to control the kite strapped to his back and remain aloft.

Craig turned toward Cartman’s, quickly losing sight of Kyle; which was okay because he was in no particular hurry to get there. He took his time, pausing often to study interesting pebbles and weeds growing between the cracks in the sidewalk along the way. Once he finally approached the front door of Cartman’s house, Liane was standing just inside waiting, looking as though she had been expecting him.

“Go on down to the basement,” she told him as he walked up the steps to the front porch. “Just about everyone else has already arrived.”

Craig nodded and walked past her and down the stairs. He looked around at who else was already there; several of the kids he had endured going to school with were gathered around a conference table, all of them in various stages of putting on or adjusting the costumes they had worn when playing ‘Super Heroes’ as children. Cartman was struggling to attach his fake raccoon claws to fingertips that had become much wider over the years. Kyle was trying to figure out a way to sit in one of the chairs around the table with a five-foot kite strapped to his back.

“I don’t really understand it,” Kyle was saying. “It’s like I just suddenly realized that if I go into my closet and put on my old ‘Human Kite’ costume, I would be able to fly like I used to pretend I could; oh, and shoot lasers out of my eyes, only when I tried, they were more like just a couple flashlights. Here, watch.” He looked toward the cement wall of the basement, and two beams of light emerged from his eyes; they cast a spot of light no brighter than a set of car headlights; they were nowhere near as brilliant (or destructive) as the lasers Craig had fired from _his_ eyes a few minutes ago.

Stan nodded sympathetically. “I was in my garage and saw my dad’s drill laying on his workbench. I...don’t know why, but I suddenly knew I could make it work from all the way across the room just by thinking about it, so I did.” He reached down and cinched his suede leather tool belt higher around his waist; it was heavy with power tools he had quickly gathered from his father’s workbench and his pants kept wanting to slip down. “I still haven’t quite gotten my costume figured out yet.”

“We’re not all here yet,” Mysterion said, also trying to adjust his costume, only he was working on the green felt question mark hovering over his head; somehow the spring holding it had gotten bent over the years, and the question mark was drooping toward his right shoulder. “We’re missing...” he looked around the room. “Tupperware, Professor Chaos...and who else?”

“Clyde,” Kyle replied… “or 'Mosquito'? What the hell was his power anyway, the power to drink blood?"

"Mosquitoes have another ability besides that," Mysterion said, wondering how he was going to tell them about _his_ power and if they would believe him this time around. This whole situation was so bizarre that maybe they’d be more open-minded this time. He waited patiently to see if Kyle figured Mosquito’s other ability out on his own.

"Oh, what?" Kyle was quickly becoming irritated. "The power to make his voice even more annoying by sticking a vuvuzela on his nose?"

"No," Mysterion said, and was about to tell him when something large crashed into the outside of the house next to the basement window and fell to the ground. They heard a muttered "oof!" from outside, and Mysterion finished: "They can _fly,_ Kyle. Apparently not very well though."

Clyde appeared at the top of the stairs a minute later, his vuvuzela in his hands and bent almost in half by his rough landing. “Hi guys! What are we all doing here?”

They looked around at each other. Mysterion finally replied, “We’re still trying to figure it out. It’s like we all suddenly felt compelled to put on our old costumes and meet here.”

“And don’t forget the part where we all got the superpowers we pretended to have when we were kids,” The Human Kite interrupted irritably.

“Does someone want to tell me why _I’m_ here?” Craig asked. “I never _played_ Super Heros with you guys...”

“But you felt drawn here anyway, just like the rest of us,” Kite interrupted again. “Didn’t you? Did something happen to you just before you decided to come here?”

“Uh...” Craig trailed off and was considering several possible answers (including one that began with “fuck off”) when there was a commotion from upstairs. Nearly a dozen more people appeared at the top of the stairs and began hurrying down into the basement; it seemed that most of their parents had gotten together and decided to join them.

“Staaan?” Randy called out stridently. Toolshed pinched the bridge of his nose, and in a moment the basement was filled nearly to capacity with people.

“What do you want, dad?” Toolshed asked, finally looking up.

“Are you boys watching the news?” Gerald Broflovski replied for him.

“What are you all even doing here?” Kite asked, and the parents looked around at each other; Liane began making her way down the stairs carrying a pitcher of lemonade and a plate of cookies.

“We...just felt like we needed to be here!” Sharon Marsh replied. “So, we–”

“ _Are you watching the news?”_ Gerald asked again, much more urgently this time. The boys looked around the room, especially at the television in the corner, which was currently turned off.

“Obviously not, dad,” Kyle said; Mysterion picked up the remote from the conference table and turned the TV on.

“What channel?” he asked gruffly.

“It doesn’t matter,” Stuart McCormick said, looking at his son curiously. Carol was standing beside him lighting a cigarette. “It’s on every one of them!”

Mysterion punched in the numbers for CNN and asked, “What the hell is going on?”

“Cthulhu,” Sheila Broflovski replied, winded from her walk down the stairs. She took a couple breaths and finished, “He’s returned.”

They turned their attention to the TV, where it indeed appeared that Cthulhu had returned, and was emerging onto a sandy beach in all his winged and tentacle-faced glory. A reporter was standing in the foreground, looking anxiously over his shoulder before turning his face toward the camera.

“Tom, I’m standing on the shore of Galveston, Texas, where it appears Cthulhu has escaped from The Gulf of Mexico where he was imprisoned a decade ago, and is making his way onto land!”

They watched as Cthulhu stepped onto the shore and rose to his full height. People below were screaming in horror and running away, as Cthulhu’s eyes began glowing a malevolent shade of orange.

The reporter once again turned away as flames shot from Cthulhu’s eyes and began incinerating everything and everyone around him. “Tom, it’s not safe here, we’re going to have to—” He was abruptly cut off as Cthulhu looked up toward the camera, and the image on the TV dissolved into static. A moment later the talking head behind the news desk reappeared.

“It seems we’re having technical difficulties with our live report,” the newsman said, obviously at a loss for words.

“We have to go fight him,” Mysterion said, finally giving up on trying to straighten the question mark dangling above his shoulder.

“No we don’t,” The Human Kite said. “Just because...”

“Just because _what_ Kyle?” Mysterion interrupted. “It’s pretty obvious that we’re meant to fight him if...” he hesitated for a moment over the next word. “ _We_ all got our pretend superpowers the same day he returned.”

“No, he’s right.” Toolshed said. “We don’t need to rush off into this, just because...” he trailed off, uncertain of how to finish what he started to say, and finally ending with “I mean….it could be just a coincidence.”

“Oh, _right!”_ Mysterion snapped. “It’s just a coincidence that we got the powers we used to... _pretend_ we had. Sure, that makes perfect sense.” Kite was about to interrupt but Mysterion spoke first, turning his anger toward him. “Or what about the fact that you haven’t worn that costume in—what—ten years, but it still fits you? Do you think your _mother_ snuck it out of your closet and lengthened it for you?”

“Our military will take care of this!” Randy said. “You boys should just stay here and wait to see what happens.”

Mysterion shook his head angrily at the apathy he was witnessing from everyone else in the room. No one else appeared inclined to join his charge up the stairs, so everyone gathered around to watch the television. The Coon and Friends sat in a semicircle on the floor around the TV, while their parents gathered in an awkward cluster behind them, looking at what was quickly becoming the most-watched news broadcast in history. Liane began shuttling regularly up and down the steps bringing more refreshments from what Mysterion realized must be coming from the Coon’s private snack stash, based on how angry Cartman was becoming.

Mysterion found himself sitting next to Craig, who seemed more interested in studying his fingers, the ceiling, his shoelaces and everything else except what was being shown to the rest of the world on TV. It occurred to Mysterion several times to try to tell him that he wasn’t the only one who actually had a superpower, but he remained silent. He sensed that the time was coming when they might be alone together that he would have to say something about it though.

The news people were obviously scrambling to figure out what to say as they kept changing locations as they attempted to describe Cthulhu’s steady march away from the Gulf of Mexico.

Eventually the news cut away to a reporter standing alongside a tall chain link fence, with an obvious airplane runway in the background.

“Tom, I’m standing on the tarmac of Laughlin Air Force Base in Del Rio, Texas, where the Air Force is preparing to launch an attack against Cthulhu!” The Coon and Friends (along with Craig, who finally appeared interested in what was happening) leaned forward as the reporter continued. “Behind me are two F-15 fighter jets preparing to take off to destroy Cthulhu before it can cause any more damage or loss of life!”

“They shouldn’t be broadcasting our strategy,” Craig muttered, and Mysterion looked at him and nodded. Behind him, Tupperware and Professor Chaos appeared at the top of the stairs and began to descend down into the basement. Of all the people present, Chaos was the only one who appeared to be having no problems whatsoever with his costume.

The image of the reporter was replaced with a graphic of the state of Texas, showing the location of both Cthulhu near the Gulf, as well as the Air Force Base 200 miles to the west, near the Texas-Mexico border. “Officials estimate it will take approximately 15 minutes for them to reach their target.”

“This is almost treasonous,” Kenny remarked, and Craig finally looked back at him.

“At the very least, it’s fucking stupid.”

The reporter reappeared as the sounds of the fighter jets’ engines grew louder.

“Okay, here we go,” Gerald said excitedly, and Randy (who had managed to find a can of beer somewhere) added: “Kick his ass, U.S. Air Force!”

The camera panned away behind the reporter’s right shoulder at the two fighter jets. Despite the distance, they could clearly hear the high-pitched whining sound of their engines revving up. Then the lead jet seemed to practically leap forward and hurdle down the runway; the second jet followed suit a moment later.

“Come on…” Toolshed muttered, and just as it seemed the first F-15 was about to take to the skies it abruptly stopped two-thirds of the way down the runway in a cloud of smoke and dust. The second jet halted as well, barely avoiding a collision.

Mysterion ignored the surprised outbursts around him as he leaned even closer to the television. Something had obviously gone wrong. Craig was leaning forward beside him, raptly paying attention as well. The camera pulled back and the reporter once again reappeared.

“Tom, it appears that both jets have stopped for some reason,” the newsman said. He paused to listen to something in his earpiece for several seconds, then looked up at the camera again with a puzzled expression. “We’re receiving reports that several other attempts to launch offensive attacks against Cthulhu have failed as well.” The reporter’s lips continued to move, but the sound faded, and a moment later the picture faded as well, first into digitized static and then a black background appeared. Large red text filled the screen:

**THERE IS TO BE NO INTERFERENCE FROM ANY OF THE WORLD’S MILITARY**

“Oh, what the fuck is going on?” Mysterion said angrily over the confused commotion that erupted behind him; he and Craig exchanged glances before returning their attention to the TV. Another message replaced the first:

**THIS WAR AGAINST CTHULHU IS TO BE FOUGHT BY THE GROUP WHO ONCE CALLED THEMSELVES COON & FRIENDS ONLY, WHO HAVE BEEN GIVEN VARYING DEGREES OF THE SUPERPOWERS THEY PRETENDED TO HAVE AS CHILDREN, WITH THE EXCEPTION OF ERIC CARTMAN, WHO DOES NOT HAVE THE POWER TO CONTROL CTHULHU THAT HE ONCE HAD.**

“Hey!” The Coon said angrily upon reading this. The others in the basement ignored him.

 **DURING BATTLE, THEY ARE TO REMAIN IN COSTUME, AND STAY IN CHARACTER, UNTIL A WINNER HAS EMERGED. THEY MAY RECEIVE ASSISTANCE FROM OTHERS FOR** **NON-COMBATIVE ROLES ONLY** **. THE ACTUAL FIGHTING IS TO BE DONE** **ONLY** **BY COON & FRIENDS; IN ADDITION, CRAIG TUCKER ALONG WITH HIS ABILITY TO SHOOT LASERS FROM HIS EYES WILL JOIN THE BATTLE.**

“That’s it,” Craig said standing up, his voice rising clearly from the hubbub in the room. “I’m out.”

“What?” Mysterion, Toolshed, and Tupperware said simultaneously. “You can’t just _leave!”_ Toolshed added incredulously.

“Really?” Craig replied. “Watch me.” And with that he walked away, threading his way through the crowd and up the stairs of Cartman’s basement, pausing at the last step to look back at them. “I am choosing not to be a part of this anymore.” He disappeared through the basement door, eerily reminiscent of what he had done a decade ago in Peru moments before he had stepped onto the mysterious platform that somehow enabled him to fire lasers from his eyes.

“We need to go after him,” Kyle said, also standing up.

Mysterion scowled. “I’ll go, Kyle.” He had spotted something in Craig’s face that he recognized, and didn’t like. “You guys stay here...and see if they say anything else. Maybe you should record this, Cartman, in case they say anything else we’ll need to know...not that it won’t be repeated on the news thousands of times anyway.”

Mysterion hurried up the stairs and out the Cartmans’ front door. He spotted Craig hurrying away; he’d expected him to be headed toward his house, but he was going in the opposite direction instead, toward Stark’s pond. Mysterion watched him for a moment, and decided that before he followed him there was something he needed to do first. He turned the other way and ran toward his own house to quickly change his clothes.


	2. I Would Be So Happy

Once he'd put on his usual jeans and one of his dad's old Kurt Cobain tee-shirts, Kenny quickly picked up Craig's trail again and furtively followed him for several blocks, staying hidden. Craig finally made his way to Stark's Pond, where he sat down with his back against a tree and stared at the ground between his shoes.

Kenny observed him for several minutes from behind a juniper bush; Craig appeared to be just sitting there with his back against the tree, doing nothing. Kenny finally broke cover, circling around so he approached him from the front so he didn't sneak up and startle him.

Craig was sitting, staring at the ground with empty eyes. Kenny sat down cross-legged a few feet away and regarded him carefully. "Hey dude...are you okay?"

There was absolutely no response. Craig continued to stare at the ground with empty doll's eyes; the last time he had felt this bad, this alone, this  _disassociated_  was the time his father (in one of the few father-son moments they had shared that actually seemed to matter) had told him: "I  _like_  gay Craig...I love you" and then handed him a hundred dollar bill.

That moment had never made sense to him, and with the events of the last hour, Craig was remembering it for the first time in almost a decade and doubting everything about his life and how the universe worked.

"Dude...c'mon," Kenny said after a minute. "You're scaring me here."

Craig's eyes finally shifted, looking at Kenny for a moment before quickly looking away again.

"You changed," Craig finally said.

"Huh?"

"You changed," Craig repeated slowly, as if he was speaking to a moron. "Your clothes. You put your underwear back inside your pants...and put on a normal shirt."

"Oh, yeah."

They lapsed into another awkward silence, which Kenny finally broke. "Talk to me, man. What's going on with you?"

"I don't know why  _I'm_  involved in this," Craig said angrily. "I mean...you guys all just pretended to have these weird superpowers when you were kids, and now all of a sudden you actually have them." He brushed angrily at a sudden surprising tear running down his cheek. "Well, except for Cartman, and now that Cthulhu has come back, he's the one that should have the power he used to have. Meanwhile, I got hijacked to Peru because of you assholes, and stepped on that stupid platform and shot laserbeams out of my eyes  _one fucking time_..." He sighed unhappily. "And now I'm mixed up with you guys again."

Kenny nodded.  _I thought so_ , he almost said, and didn't. Instead he waited to see if Craig had anything more to say, which he finally did.

"I get the feeling I'm expected to save the world again. And I  _don't want to_. I just want to finish high school, go to college, and find a career that I might actually enjoy and make enough money to get by on, something that won't suck the life out of me...you know? I would be  _so happy_  if I could just have a normal life. You know...like a regular kid? Is that too much to ask?"

Kenny sighed. "Yeah, I thought so," he said, voicing the thought he'd had a moment ago. "Dude, look—"

"You and your friends are so full of shit," Craig interrupted angrily, words pouring from him now as if a dam had broken. "You haven't changed a bit since you were kids, doing all this stupid shit, and somehow finding a way to drag  _me_  into it. So Kyle and Clyde can fly now, and Marsh can control power tools with his mind. You guys only  _pretended_  to be able to do that shit when you were kids. I actually shot laserbeams out of my eyes once when I was eight..." He trailed off and resumed studying the ground between his shoes. "I'm the only one that actually did something..." Another tear slid down his cheek, and Kenny resisted the urge to wipe it away with his thumb.

"Craig," Kenny began and faltered on his next words. "Look...you're not alone here—"

Craig slammed his heels into the ground, kicking up a small puff of dirt. "Yeah...I am." He buried his face between his knees, wiping more tears from his face. "I  _am_  alone with this!"

"No, you're  _not!_ " Kenny told him. "Look, dude...what if I told you that I have a superpower too, one that I don't want to have either; but it's one I'm stuck with, just like you are?"

Craig raised his face from his knees to look at him.

"Oh, bullshit," Craig snarled. " _You_  have a superpower too, huh?" Kenny realized that part of the reason Craig was this angry at him was because he thought Kenny was mocking him. "What...you have the power to clean up nice if someone gives you a bar of soap and some shampoo?"

Kenny sighed, and was about to give him an angry retort when Craig interrupted him.

"Okay, look: I'm sorry, okay? That was mean. But...what do you mean you have a superpower?"

Now that Craig was allowing him an opportunity to speak, it was Kenny's turn to get angry. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you. None of them believed me back then either..." He almost stood up to walk away and then didn't; if his best friends didn't believe him when he tried to explain his curse of immortality when they were kids, then why would this sarcastic asshole?

Craig at least seemed to be starting to become engaged in this conversation, and it was the only thing that kept Kenny from storming away. "Kenny...what the fuck are you talking about?"

Kenny glared at him, suddenly wishing he hadn't take off his costume. It might have added a small amount of credibility to what he was about to say.

"None of my friends ever believed me before, why would you?"

Craig straightened up against the tree he was leaning against. "Kenny, I just watched Cthulhu kill a reporter on live TV; your friends got their pretend superpowers back,  _something_  just grounded the whole world's military and said  _we're_  the only ones allowed to fight him, and I just incinerated a wasp that almost stung Tweek by firing lasers from my eyes at it. Why wouldn't I believe you at this point?"

Kenny nodded and made a mental note to ask him later about the wasp. "Okay...okay, wow, yeah, you're right." He sighed. "All right...I'll try this again." Kenny scooted closer, leaning his back against the tree, his shoulder an inch from Craig's. "Look dude...I  _DO_  have a superpower, all right?" Kenny closed his eyes for a moment and opened them again. "I'm  _immortal_ , okay?"

Craig stared at him, not sure what to make of what Kenny had said. "What do you mean, you're 'immortal'? Like...you're never going to die?"

"I mean I  _can't fucking die_ , that's what I mean." He shook his head angrily, his own tears now threatening. "No...I mean, I can...and I do all the time..."

Kenny told him everything, about how he died at least once a month (and more when he was younger, sometimes as often as once a week), and then returned within a day or two, and no one ever remembered anything about it.

"I shot myself in the head... _twice_...when we were kids, the first time that whole Cthulhu thing happened. I told them to  _fucking remember_  the second time I did it. But the next day? They didn't remember a goddamned thing...and there were no blood stains on the floor."

Kenny waited for Craig to decide what to say next, and Kenny didn't expect him to respond the way he did.

"Wait a second," Craig whispered. "Okay...just wait." He looked as though he was deep in thought and shifted closer to Kenny, who settled against the tree and waited for Craig to go on. "You know what…what you just said explains something I've always remembered, or at least  _thought_  I did….that never made any sense to me. At least until now, if you're telling the truth."

Craig stopped talking, and Kenny waited patiently while he gathered his thoughts.

"You had muscular dystrophy back when we were in fourth grade, didn't you?" Kenny's eyes widened at that question; he had thought no one remembered that. "The school held a benefit for you, and when you died, the town paid for your funeral." Craig's eyes were boring into his, waiting for him to say something to either confirm what he'd said, or tell him he was crazy.

Kenny could only respond with the truth. "Yeah Craig...I did."

"Uh huh! I fucking  _knew_  it!" He reached up and angrily brushed tears from his cheeks. "And all these years I thought it was just a dream I had. I sometimes thought I was crazier than Tweek for believing that...but it's true: You did die!"

Kenny could only nod in response.

"And after you died, Marsh was a fucking mess because he said he didn't visit you enough while you were in the hospital, and he told everyone about it who would listen." Craig was studying him carefully, looking for something in Kenny's eyes to contradict what he was saying and not finding it. "I remember going to your funeral and watching them lower your casket into the ground, and oh goddamnit, all that really  _did_  happen, didn't it?"

"Yep," Kenny replied at once, closing his eyes painfully at the memory of dying alone in that hospital bed, wondering why Stan never came to visit. Of his many deaths, he hated this one the most.

"You were gone for like a  _year_  after that happened, and then one day you just showed up again, and it was like nothing ever happened. And I chose to forget about it, because it was either that, or lose my mind." He scooped up a handful of dirt from between his feet and let it sift back down between his fingers. "You used to disappear for a couple days at a time," Craig finally went on. "And it was because you died in some stupid accident, or got trampled by a herd of cows or something. I used to notice weird shit like that."

"Shit..." Kenny whispered. "I can't believe you actually remember that," Kenny said. "I thought everyone always just forgot..."

"I didn't!" Craig replied. He turned and looked at Kenny with an anguished expression. "I  _tried_  to forget because everyone else did, and couldn't."

Craig's lips trembled and he looked away, back at the ground between his feet. Kenny could see he was fighting tears.

"It's okay to cry, you know," Kenny told him quietly.

"No it  _isn't!_ " Craig said angrily even as he swiped angrily at fresh tears with the heel of his hand. "I  _can't_  cry, Kenny! I can't–! I..." He trailed off.

Kenny studied him for a moment; Craig was obviously moments away from completely breaking down. "Why? Why can't you cry? Because it–" he was about to say  _because it feels good to sometimes_ , when Craig interrupted him.

"Because I  _CAN'T_ , all right? Because if I do..." his voice hitched. "I'm afraid I won't ever be able to stop."

Craig completely lost it, bursting into tears and burying his face in his forearms while his shoulders heaved with sobs.

"Oh...crap." Kenny reached up, hesitated a moment, then put his hand on Craig's back. "Jesus dude, I'm sorry." He half-expected Craig to pull away, but instead he came closer, hiding his face against Kenny's arm while he wept miserably and Kenny rubbed his back. It took several minutes, but Craig eventually stopped crying, sniffed loudly, and wiped his face against his forearm.

"What a fucked up thing for us to bond over, huh?" Craig said quietly, and Kenny pulled him closer.

"I know, right?" Kenny replied. "You know...it's kind of nice having an ally with something in common, even if it's something stupid like having superpowers that neither one of us asked for."

Craig nodded and sat up straighter. Kenny regarded him carefully.

"I suppose we should probably go back to Cartman's house," Craig said.

"You mean 'the Coon's house'," Kenny replied with a smile. Craig returned it and nodded. "Might as well get used to it...and calling us by our superhero names too. It seems to be what whoever is doing all this wants."

Kenny stood up and offered Craig his hand. Craig smiled weakly and allowed Kenny to pull him to his feet. Once he was standing, Kenny tried to let go, but Craig held on, not letting him.

Kenny looked at him curiously. "Um...dude? What about, um...Tweek?"

Craig shook his head. "That was a long time ago. We've moved on; I mean, we're still friends, but...we're not together any more."

Kenny nodded and squeezed Craig's hand. Craig looked down at their joined hands for a moment, then back up at Kenny.

"So I guess this is all right." He cocked his head. "You really could die any time?"

Kenny nodded. "Yeah. And if I do...don't worry about it too much okay? Because—"

"Because you'll come back the next day like nothing happened, and everyone will have forgotten about it. I wonder if  _I'll_  remember we talked about this when the time comes?"

"Let's cross that bridge when we get to it, okay?" Craig nodded. "Right now...we should get back to Cart...I mean  _The Coon's_  hideout."

"We have to stop at your house first."

Kenny looked at him curiously. "Why?"

Craig smiled. "Because you guys are supposed to wear your costumes, remember?"


End file.
